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March 21, 2013

Dear inner Child

It is apparently time we get to know each other a little bit considering I didn't even see you there all this time.

Except, I don't really want to get to know you. Because all you're actually doing right now is pissing me off.

You know, I started therapy because I was worried about the impact of PTSD on me after my husband's two near-death experiences, and the weight of the fear of losing him sitting on my shoulders. That, and my kids. My ACTUAL children. Ahem. I know I need to be at my very best for THEM.

But you? Cropping up and muddying the waters? Is not what I was expecting.

You see, I thought I was actually a pretty well-adjusted person. Didn't think I had much angst or underlying mommy, daddy or childhood issues I had never worked through. Didn't recognize that I have neuroses and hang-ups, that what I thought was other people being mean to me is really my own crap reacting to any given situation (not that people are never jerks, but that's not the point here, stop distracting me!). My parents never showed me a lack of love growing up. They weren't abusive in any way. I had never been abandoned.....

Or had I? See the water getting murky, my little friend?

Not acknowledging you, my pain-in-the-ass Inner Child, is just one more instance of me trying to fight my feelings. To push them away and claim they're no big deal. I'm stronger than my feelings, dammit!

Maybe I am stronger than the feelings you cause me, but apparently not unless I work through them. My therapist says that if I keep trying to push them down and ignore them, they'll just keep resurfacing.

See why I'm pissed at you? I mean, don't I have enough shit to deal with? I have a sick husband and two kids to raise here!

I just want to be a good wife, mom, daughter and friend. You coming around, wanting to play peek-a-boo with me, messes with those things. You make me feel things. Irrational things.

Oh wait. My therapist would stop me here and point out, "Feelings are not rational, Jennifer."

Fine, fine. Whatever.

Do you see what you're doing to me? See my head spinning around like the possessed little girl in the Exorcist? So glad I'm not the pea soup spewing type.

Look, here's the deal: I get that you're there, deep down inside me. I get that it will only be good for me in the long run to work through YOUR issues. But the extra emotions and anxiety you're making me feel, and the way I seem to have no clue how to be with other people right now? Really not appreciating that.

It's making me feel so awkward and like I need to tattoo an apology onto my forehead.

Warning: I am carrying a small bag of crazy right now, but please don't be afraid, I won't spill it on you. At least, I'll try not to.

Sigh. So, yeah, I'll do this. But I don't have to like it. All I can say is, if you're going to mess with my life, I better end up with a heap of new pearls of wisdom to boast about!

(Yes, I realize you've probably always been messing with my life in one way or another. Shut up. Know it all.)

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This has been a unique-tale blog consisting of real-time memoirs as I journeyed through life as a mom and spousal caregiver, and then a young widow. My husband passed away in 2016 after a long battle with diabetes and kidney failure. I was lucky enough to find love again late in 2017. I live in rainy Western Washington and I enjoy walking, TV, movies, music, yarn, wine and coffee. I continue to learn, grow, live, love and laugh. I think and feel deeply. I struggle and I overcome. Sometimes I'm sarcastic. I am always grateful.

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